


Round Two, Cowboy.

by WoobinB



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: Gay Male Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-03-07 00:58:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13423347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoobinB/pseuds/WoobinB
Summary: Spike Spiegel welcomed death with opened arms, hoping to be reunited with his beloved Julia again. However, he did not expect to wake up in another man's home. Continuation of Cowboy Bebop.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spike is saved.

 It would've been nice to live to adventurous and livid life. 

It would've been nice if loneliness didn't seem to be so devastatingly boring. 

It would've been nice. It would've been nice to have a companion or two. 

But companions are for suckers. In the era of 2071, no one wanted to be with you. So it was best to live your life in solitude. 

A flock of light blond hair with blue frosted tips was covered in a black cloak as the heavy, persistent rain poured down on the planet. A sneeze erupted from the owner of said hair, and it echoed around him. The pale male clutched the cloak closer to his lean figure as he trudged on, not searching for anything in particular. 

It was a day. Just a day to walk. A day where it had to rain, though it didn't stop him. A walk is a walk, and a walk is refreshing, nevermind the weather. His face was covered mostly by the hood, the only thing that was barely noticeable were the large safety goggles that was placed on his face. 

The icy cold raindrops pelted the young man's figure as he approached something out of the ordinary. It was a tall, tall skyscraper (possibly the tallest one in Mars). As the male made his way towards the steps, he looked up. The enormous stained glass windows were shattered. 

Then he looked down.

More glass. And a broken, bloodied body. 

He sped-walked over to the limo body that laid on the blood-stained stairs leading up into the skyscraper. He got down on one knee and immediately felt for a pulse on the neck.

Surprisingly, there was a pulse. Though, it was extremely faint.

Gingerly, the young male cupped the stranger's head with his hands to find out the identity of the dying person. It clearly showed that it was man. His features consisted of a long, straight nose, thin lips, and a remarkable jawline (the blonde male envied him a little bit). He also envied the man's head that was full of hair. Pitch, black hair. The man was soaked in his own pool of blood.

And then soon, the younger male started to panic.

He cursed loudly and repeatedly as he frantically fussed over the possible dead body, not knowing what to exactly do. As he did so, blood started to get on his gloved hands, so he cursed some more.

The young man fought between the decision of leaving this man to die in the rain. Or to take him back to where he currently resided and at least take him to a hospital. He was torn between the two very important choices, and he couldn't bring himself to make a choice. 

If he chose the second decision, someone's life would be in his hands. 

If chose first, he would live with pure guilt. 

Atlas had a relatively good heart, so he chose.

* * *

This sucked for Atlas. He should've just left him in the damn rain.

As he lugged him back to his home, he took note that the raven-haired man was very lean, more lean than he was. And ridiculously tall. Despite his lean stature, the man was  _heavy._

Atlas kicked open his door with his foot and let out a loud grunt. As he entered, he made his way immediately over to his couch, and dropped the man. Atlas crouched over and rested his hands over his cloaked knees, panting and sweating profusely. 

Never again, he thought. Never again.

As he shrugged off his cloak, he observed the currently bleeding man. 

Now, Atlas was no doctor. But, he knew a thing or two in the medical field.

Atlas got a quick look at the man's wounds.

He decided that he did _not_ know a thing or two in the medical field.

What the in the blazing Hell did this guy get himself into, Atlas wondered deliriously. For a man to be this cut up with several bullet wounds, he had to be in a gang.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Atlas is going to die.

No, he'll just take him to the hospital. It'll be their problem then, not his. He wouldn't be responsible at all. 

Actually, that just crushes his morals. 

Yes, taking this bleeding, dying man to the hospital was the most crucial and sensible thing to do in this situation, even if it'll cost him some cash. But, who's to say that Atlas couldn't do this himself?

His stubborn pride got in the way of a lot of things, the possibility of saving someone's life is going to add on to the list. 

Fuck it, he'll give it a go.

Atlas slid over to his closet and ripped the two doors open, revealing a couple of outfits, mostly jackets and boots. As he searched for the outfit he wanted, he shimmied out of his clothes, soon standing in the complete bare nude, proudly. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled it out and immediately got dressed.

This particular young man had weird taste in fashion. But who doesn't nowadays? On his [body](https://pre00.deviantart.net/7362/th/pre/i/2016/029/6/c/pocket_mortys___surgeon_rick_by_green_chemical-d9pqzo4.png) was a light blue scrub gown that stopped above his knees was hugged snuggly around his neck, bubble-like sleeves that were made out of clear worbla, a white apron, and black leather boots that accompanied his leggings.

Atlas tugged on his long, blue latex gloves on his hands with a grin as he peered down at his new patient below. 

He knew this wasn't going to end well.

* * *

After long, long hours of video-watching, crying, book-reading, swearing, and tantrums, Atlas became successful in the end. 

He managed to close all the man's brutal wounds and organs, as well as giving him enough painkillers. Heck, he did the job of an actual doctor. And it was all for free price.

Luckily for the younger male, Atlas had the stomach to withstand such an agonizing surgery. It was quite fun, he admitted. If only the man did not die on him, Atlas will claim himself as victorious. 

His old, burgundy couch was soiled with blood, as well as his clothes. Grimacing, he rushed off into his room, changed out of the nurse uniform back into his normal clothing, and rushed back out to the shirtless and beaten up man. On the floor, he sat by his side and examined his resting face attentively.

Atlas wondered how long it would take for him to awaken, he grew anxious by the minutes. He wanted to know everything about this man. Where he was from, if he was okay, and what the hell he was doing to obtain scars like those.

In the meantime, Atlas would just have to wait.


	2. session two, wake up cowboy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike finally wakes up after a week, and scares the shit out of Atlas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo.

604,800 seconds. 168 hours. One full week.

Atlas never left that man's side. 

He would occasionally supply him with more painkillers and herbs he went out and bought. He changed his glass of tap water ever so often, just in case he woke up.

He never moved. Never budged. Never woke up. 

The loneliness and solitude was not as dominate as before. The company of the unconscious man warmed Atlas, even if he showed no signs of consciousness and awareness. Still, the company was nice.

Several feet away from the resting raven-haired man, Atlas tinkered with a machine. Screws, screwdrivers, and other metal parts and tools was scattered around the messy living room as he worked, listening closest to any movement or sounds from the man.

604,800 seconds. 168 hours. One full week.

He murmured something. 

Anxious and excited, Atlas crawled closer to the man. His face was scrunched up in distaste and pain. His dark brows were so low, they nearly replaced his eyes. Atlas inched closer to the man's face, waiting. 

A moment went by. Then two.

Atlas yelped louder than a dog as he clutched the sides of the sofa. His face reddened with embarrassment, pain, and discomfort. His body froze stiff as the man's large hand wrapped around his testicles with a near death grip.

"Julia."

This wasn't happening. No way.

With the intention of not hurting him, Atlas attempted to pry his hand away from his penis and balls, grimacing each time. The grip tightened, and the man muttered the same name again. Atlas was immensely confused and didn't know what to make of this situation. 

In what seemed like forever, his balls were free.

Atlas fell back on his back, holding his prized possessions and groaned out in agony and pain. 

Why, just why?

* * *

Atlas hung the damp herbs on his ceiling while the ice pack in between his legs slowly melted. He hummed a quiet time to himself, his mind elsewhere.

Unbeknownst to him, there was a gasp from the couch and heavy breathing. 

The man's eyes darted everywhere once they opened. His chest heaved up and down in a cold sweat as he tried to put the pieces together.

He could've sworn he was dead. He should have been dead. What happened?

Brown eyes landed on the other human in the room.

They are what happened, he assumed. 

He silently watched them hang whatever he was hanging on the ceiling, he didn't have the strength to speak. The stranger hummed quietly as they climbed down the high stool they stood on.

Wiping their hands on a rag, the stranger slowly turned towards the man.

Eyes hidden behind goggles met unfamiliar brown eyes. 

The blonde stranger shrieked.

* * *

The man on the couch grimaced greatly at the sudden shriek, for it rang through his ears. Fortunately, the shriek didn't last long. The stranger rushed to the man's side and cleared his throat. Waiting expectedly, the man stared at the stranger, who he assumed it was another male.

Atlas licked his dry lips and cleared his throat again.

"Sorry for the, ahem,  _scream._ But, you're awake."

Awake. Alive. That's what he was. He didn't understand it.

The exhausted, pale man wanted to speak back to his apparent savior. He licked his own lips, mustered up his strength, and spoke.

"Where am I?" he asked with his raspy voice. After the question, he noted that his throat was extremely dry.

Atlas offered a lopsided grin before pushing the new glass of water towards the man. 

"You're in my house," he replied. "More like apartment." 

Oh, how grateful Atlas was to see this man not dead on his couch. Because he would've been responsible. He truly had worked his magic.

Atlas watched as the man slowly looked down in between his legs. He shivered as his body grew red. He quickly placed both hands to cover the melting ice pack that rested on his crouch. The man was an odd brow.

"May I dare ask?"

"Hey, don't make this weird, man. You did this."

The man looked even more confused as he stared at his crouch. Frowning, Atlas stood and walked away to put the stool away. He didn't feel too comfortable with another man staring at his damaged penis.

The raven-haired man himself ignored the odd moment and scanned the room again. The room he was in was messy, but not too messy. Mostly, there were just tools and screws laying around everywhere. Though, overall, the apartment was nice. He tried to move his side to the side to face the other male cleaning, but let out a yelp in pain.

"Don't move," Atlas mused without turning back. "You're very weak."

His throat became even drier and he was dying of thirst.

"Hey," his raspy voice whispered. "Could you help me...drink?" 

Without a word, Atlas came back to the man and sat beside him on the floor. He lifted the glass to his thin lips while holding his head up with care. The man took huge gulped and finished the whole glass in under twenty seconds. He panted when he was finished and looked at the blonde with frosted tips, who wore safety goggles.

"Who are you?" His voice was a little bit more clearer now, but he still sounded exhausted.

Atlas nodded, placing the cup down on the table and refilling it.

"Atlas," he said. "Atlas Homer."

A light snort erupted from the wounded man, despite his predicament. Atlas sent a light glare his way and a frown.

"What are you, a map?" the man mocked.

"Oh? And I assume you have a much more intriguing name?"

"Matter of fact, I do," the man snapped back. "Name's Spike. Spike Spiegel."

It was Atlas' turn to snort loudly, earning a scowl from the man known as 'Spike.'

"Pfft, 'Spike?' What are you, a  _dog?"_

Spike's scowl deepened.

"'Ey, watch it, map."

"No, you watch it. I saved your damn life."

Which wasn't a complete lie. Atlas didn't really know what he was doing in all honesty. He was just lucky the man got to see another day.

Spike rolled his eyes and focused on the ceiling. 

"Whatever, Mr. Map. I'm hungry. Can a guy get something to eat around here?"

Atlas shrugged and stood up, stretching.

"I'll gladly make you something light to eat, man. But you know you gotta stay here until you're all better, right?" 

Groaning, Spike rolled his eyes again. His body hurt too much to do anything else.

"Yeah, whatever. Fine. Free meals and care can't hurt, right?"

"That's the spirit."

* * *

Steam fogged up Atlas' goggles as he prepared supper for both himself and Spike. It was light like he promise: soup. He made sure not to put any extra spices in Spike's bowl, in fear of it upsetting his torn up body. Atlas whistled another tune as he poured hot soup in both bowls and set them on a silver tray.

He sauntered his way back to where Spike laid, and much to his surprise, he was still awake. He set the tray down on the wooden table in front of him and sat down.

"Do I have to feed you?" Atlas asked, waiting for an answer. He watched Spike's face turn into slight irritation before going back to neutral.

"Yeah, please."

Deciding that he'll eat after Spike is fed, Atlas carefully helped Spike prop his head up on the couch so he could swallow properly. He took the soup in his hands, scooped some up in his spoon, and brought the spoon up to his lips. Frowning, Spike, with some aggression, engulfed the spoon in his mouth, his teeth scraping the ladle. Atlas withdrew the spoon from his mouth and watched him swallow patiently before his mouth opened again, wanting more soup.

After a half hour, Atlas placed the bowls in his sink, deciding to wash them in the morning. He looked outside the window at the now dark sky, indicating that it was night. 

"You should rest up, Spike. Gain all your energy back."

Spike hummed in response as he rested against the clothed couch (Atlas had skillfully moved him to place a thick blanket underneath him so he wouldn't be laying in his blood. How generous of him). Atlas came over to tuck him in. By doing so, he gained an odd feeling which he didn't feel before.

A man tucking another man in. How absurd was that?

Spike fought the same thing as he closed his eyes, waiting impatiently for slumber to consume him.

Atlas smiled a little as he stood back to observe Spike Spiegel. 

"G'night, Spiegel."


	3. session three, your eyes are like the ocean, baby.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlas and Spike do some verbal-bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spike finally gets to see Atlas' eyes.

Atlas should have left Spike's dying ass back at those damn steps.

He groaned as his name was shouted again for the fifteenth time by his so-called patient down the hall. Atlas begrudgingly sat up in his bed. His hair was disheveled, and he had random black marks under his eyes. He glared down the hall, cursing Spike before getting up and going into the living room.

Atlas glowered down at the waiting Spike, who only looked back at him innocently.

"Morning, Doc," he greeted. 

"Spike," Atlas growled. "What do you  _want?"_

"Food," Spike replied, nonchantely. "I'm starving."

Yawning, Atlas itched his bare chest as he pondered on what to make for the two of them. Oddly, his eyes were still closed, much to Spike's dismay. Spike examined his build, it was similar to his own; Atlas was just a tad bit shorter. He grew a liking to his color choice of boxers: blood red.

Atlas stalked into the kitchen area and began to work. As he prepared late breakfast, Spike spoke to him from the couch.

"So, you rich or something?" he inquired. "Your place looks oddly nice."

Furrowing his brows, Atlas slapped his goggles on his face.

"I'm not  _rich._ I just work for my shit."

"You work? What do you do?"

"Nunya."

Spike rose a brow as he frowned in confusion.

"Nunya? Nunya what?"

Smirking, Atlas replied, "Nunya business."

It was quiet on Spike's end, but Atlas dismissed it and cracked open eggs.

In all honesty, Spike was just downright confused.

As he laid contemplating the apparent joke, Atlas came back with two plates of eggs. Setting both of them down, Atlas proceeded to sitting Spike up, and then feeding him.

While feeding him, Spike mustered up a few more questions.

"You live alone?"

"As you can see."

"Do you ever wear shirts?"

"Shirts are for suckers."

"Are you a legit doctor?"

"Do you have an off button?"

Atlas frowned unamused as Spike smirked lightly. He shook his head as it rested in the palm of his hand. Spike Spiegel was a piece of work.

"Seriously," he said. "Yesterday, you were barely able to speak. Now you won't  _stop."_

"I'm just trying to get to know my doctor." 

Ha, doctor. Was that what he thought he was?

Atlas chuckled awkwardly and nervously while setting the plate down. The sudden nervousness made Spike uncomfortable and uneasy.

"Doc..."

"Heh, heh. Well, uh. You see ---" Atlas gulped and looked off to the side to avoid Spike's eyes. "You could've easily, ya know,  _died."_

"W-What!?" Spike sputtered out.

"I didn't know exactly what I was doing. We're both lucky to see you alive right now, to be honest."

"You mean to tell me that you're not a fucking  _doctor!?"_

Atlas pouted and crossed his arms.

"I thought you already assumed that, dense!"

Spike was delirious and bewildered. It was hilarious.

"Uh, no!? I assumed you were a legit doctor that knew what they were doing!" he yelled, then gasped. He wrapped his arms around his own body in a protective manner, staring at Atlas with crazed, wide eyes. "You... You stuck sharp things in me!"

"Hey!" Atlas pointed a fork at Spike in a threatening way. "I ended up saving your life, so you're welcome!"

"Whatever! I'm going back to bed!" Spike fell back on his back, immediately screeching afterwards from the impact. Atlas panicked and fretted over his broken body.

"Spike, are you actually that dense!?" he yelled. "You can't just do that to your body! You'll die for  _sure."_

"Tch, what do you know? You're not a doctor."

Spike screeched again when Atlas gripped his crouch.

* * *

On the floor with legs crossed comfortably, Atlas worked on another machine. He was now dressed for the day, which only consisted of black leggings and boots and a long brown coat that had the sleeves rolled up to the forearm. Spike, who had just waken up from his long, restful nap, watched him work.

"What is that?" he slowly asked, uneasy by the contraption in his presence. 

"Don't worry about it," Atlas retorted, screwing in something. "I'm just tinkering with it. It's nothing."

Spike rose both of his brows in slight interest as he continued to watch Atlas. 

"So you like to build stuff, huh?"

Atlas shrugged as he scribbled something down in his notepad, too immersed in his work.

"I guess you could say I have a passion for this."

Spike hummed in response and fell back silent as he let Atlas work.

"Ironic, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"You're asking all the questions, yet you're in my home."

Spike scoffed and rested his hands on his bandaged chest, staring up at the ceiling. There was truth in Atlas' words. He was only curious on the kind of man Atlas Homer was.

"Ask away."

Atlas looked up from his work and hummed to himself, thinking of a nice, easy question. In truth, he had many. Like on the identity of this Julia he murmured in his sleep. What happened to his body?

"Let's see," he started. "Where were you born?"

"Here on Mars. Yourself?"

"Earth."

Spike groaned a little in mockery. 

"Lame."

Atlas chuckled and continued working. The conversation was pleasant, and he soon found himself enjoying lightly conversing with Spike.

"Do you work?"

He could hear the prideful smirk in Spike's tone as he replied.

"Bounty hunter."

Atlas turned to make a snarky remark, but closed his mouth once he was the defeated look. He looked distant, like there was something bothering him. And there clearly was. Atlas' eyebrows creased together in worry as he grew uneasy from the sudden mood change from the space cowboy.

"Spike?"

Did he say something that upset him? He'd hope not, that wasn't his intention. Perhaps something happened on the job that caused his severe injuries, Atlas assumed.

"I had a team. They're probably not expecting me to return. I told them I wouldn't anyways."

Atlas' eyes widened behind his goggles as his lips were slightly parted. For a moment, just a quick second of his life, Atlas truly envied Spike Spiegel. He had company, a team to be exact. Spike wasn't alone, and he was.

They must've been worried sick or worse. Depressed.

"Spike."

Spike never moved once his name was called upon, but that didn't stop Atlas as he laid his wrench down.

"You have to call them."

"...I don't know if I can," Spike whispered.

"They need to know that their friend is very well alive. You can't do that to them," Atlas spoke sternly. "Call them. You won't regret it."

Alive. Spike frowned. He wasn't supposed to be alive. He had to be dead, he accepted his fate. Jet accepted his fate. Faye begrudgingly accepted his fate. They weren't expected him, because he told them he wasn't coming back. Spike disappeared, just like Edward. He couldn't bring himself to contact him, it would hurt.

But Atlas Homer was correct; he would have to.

* * *

And he did.

Spike's company fretted over the phone like wild mothers, asking absurd questions about his wellbeing and what happened to him. Atlas listened, but not too closely. Though, one thing caught his attention.

_"Julia's dead."_

Huh, that explains a lot.

After he called, Atlas patted him on his shoulder in assurance, and offered a small smile. Spike only sighed.

Atlas checked his clock.

"Alright, Mr. Spiegel. It's about time you get ready for bed," he said, turning back towards the man. Spike nodded and sighed again.

"'Right then, g'night."

Nodding in response, Atlas stood and walked out silently, only to come back with more tools and parts. Spike glared at him in annoyance as he twitched with irritation.

"How the hell am I going to get any rest if you're working besides me?"

Sitting on the floor feets away, Atlas immediately dug into building things.

"I'm usually quiet. Don't worry, I won't wake you."

Groaning with an eye roll, Spike slowly turned over. Sleep immediately consumed him, and soon he was snoring away.

 

When he woke up again, it was still in the middle of the night. Spike opened his tired eyes and scanned the now dark room. The cool darkness engulfing him was soothing, and he could easily go back to sleep.

Light snoring beside him distracted him from the comfort of the dark. Spike looked down at his side and saw Atlas, curled up at the couch's side asleep. Spike scoffed, for Atlas still wore his goggles.

He wondered how he could sleep with them on.

Spike remembered: Atlas has never once taken off his goggles from the time he's been with him. He had them off once, but he never saw his eyes. Atlas was tired, and his eyes were puffy and mostly coveted by his hair. This fact nagged at Spike, and he was tempted to remove his goggles from the other male.

He would have an excuse; he wanted him to be comfortable.

In reality, he just wanted to see what he looked like.

Slowly without hurting him more and waking Atlas up, Spike moved to remove his goggles. Once his hands lightly gripped the sides, he carefully and skillfully slid them off of his face. Spike stared at the sleeping male besides him, suddenly lost for words.

Atlas had a pretty face. His face was pale like the rest of him, and he had long eyelashes. At least, they were longer than Spike's. If he only he could open his eyes, then Spike could see the real Atlas Homer.

Spike drew his gaze from the man and laid back down, letting the goggles loosely hang from his slender fingers.

Spike fell asleep again.

* * *

It was now morning, and this time, Atlas woke up. He yawned and looked up to find himself close to Spike. He noticed how close his face was to his, and he blushed. Atlas could easily feel his breath on his skin, and from the way they were sleeping, their lips were close.

Atlas backed away from Spike and shook his head, cursing himself for letting that happen. He rubbed his eyes, only to realize that his goggles were missing from his body. Weird, he didn't recall removing them before he slept.

Looking back at Spike, he found them. In his hands. That damn cowboy.

Atlas crawled over to the sleeping man and gently shook him awake, not wanting to juggle his organs around. 

"Spike," he hissed. "Spike!"

Spike's eyes slowly opened, and the first thing he saw were blue. He blinked slowly at the irked man above him. His eyes were a crystal blue with pink hue; it was nothing Spike had seen before. You could easily get lost in them; they were magnificent.

Atlas noticed the odd staring and frowned as he stopped shaking Spike.

"...What?"

It took a moment for Spike to reply, and the next words to come out of his mouth became unsettling for both men.

"You have pretty eyes."


	4. session four, you're a damn criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Atlas slowly continue to grow close. It's almost time for Spike to go. The two learn something about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spike gets a bath.

Spike Spiegel wasn't the best of all people; but he turned out not to be so bad.

Atlas Homer soon became an ally; he wasn't so bad himself.

Both males soon enjoyed each other, and wished time would slow down so Spike wouldn't depart so soon.

Spike was able to move more freely now, and soon he was able to get up from the couch. He could take baby steps, but to navigate all over, he would need assistance.

Goggles off, Atlas came waltzing into the living area, where Spike stood. He had a grip on the couch, and he was just standing there silently. Atlas tilted his head and stared at him in question.

"Spike?"

Spike turned his head towards Atlas, who stared at him with big blue-pinkish eyes. God, they were so strange. 

"Hm? Yeah?"

"You okay there, man?" Atlas asked, chuckling. 

"Uh, I think so. Could I ... ask a favor?"

With both brows raised up in interest, Atlas nodded. Something seemed off about Spike today. He could barely make eye contact with him and his face was pink. His face held aggravation, or was it embarrassment? Atlas had hoped it had nothing to do with his wounds. That would suck. 

Spike cleared his throat loudly.

"Can I... get cleaned?"

Atlas was puzzled, his brows demonstrated said feeling. He stared at the tall man with a frown, confused. 

"You gotta elaborate, dude."

Spike's face grew even more red and aggravated.

"Bath, Atlas. I need a  _bath."_

Atlas pondered for a moment.

"Well, you can take one. But you would have to get a sponge ba---"

Atlas froze mid sentence. After more thinking, his face grew even redder than Spike's. 

Oh, so that's why he's embarrassed.

"..Oh..."

"Yeah.  _Oh."_

Nope, nope. Atlas was _not_ going to let the fact that they're both grown men stop him from taking care of his 'patient.' Because that's what they are; grown men. A doctor would do so, why couldn't he?

Clearing his throat and his face of blush, Atlas nodded.

"Yeah, man. Of course. Ain't weird at all. Just --- let me get a bath ready."

Both men wanted to die right there and then.

* * *

"Spike. If you step on my damn foot one more time ---"

"I'm trying not to, okay!" 

In what seemed like ten years, Atlas and Spike made it to his tub, which was filled with water and bubbles. Atlas sat Spike down on the still next to the tub and panted. Spike shot him a glare.

"Aye, stop being dramatic!"

"You're heavy! Hurry up and take off your pants!"

Bewildered, Spike glared at him as his eyebrows twitched, not believing anything that was going on. Atlas glared back at him.

"Well?"

"Take off the stupid getup."

Atlas growled.

"I'm not letting your infected ass touch me! No way!"

"You're not a doctor, remember? Where the hell did you even get that...?"

"TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS, SPIKE."

God, this was so awkward.

Giving in, Spike's nimble fingers unbuckled his pants. Before removing them, his attention shot up to Atlas, who, in realization, turned the other way. Grumbling some more, he stayed where he was. Pain suddenly shot them him, and he mentally cursed. He couldn't move; his body was sore.

Atlas turned back around to see Spike in the same position. 

"What are you waiting for?"

"...I need help."

Atlas choked and felt his soul practically leave his body. Irritated by the dramatic man, Spike growled.

"Don't make this weirder than it it, you map!"

Atlas groaned as he kneeled down in front of Spike slowly, avoiding all eye contact. He glanced up, right when Spike turned his head away with a red face.

Atlas hated himself at the moment.

His hands gently grabbed both sides of Spike's torn pants. Before removing them, he took in a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever he had in his pants. 

The pants came off. Atlas nor Spike were pleased.

Atlas actually stared to whimper. This man was  _packed._

With tears streaming down his cheeks, he threw a towel over Spike's legs and threw his pants to the side.

"T-There.."

"Are you-- Are you  _crying?"_

"S-shut up."

Atlas slapped his goggles over his eyes and grabbed a ready sponge. Turning back towards Spike, he sighed.

"Let's get this over with."

* * *

Spike sighed to himself as Atlas stood behind him, drying his massive black hair with a towel. The action was quite soothing, despite the sponge bath itself; it was horrible. The only pleasant part was the shampoo. Atlas was good with his hands, he had to admit. As Atlas continued to dry his hair, Spike closed his eyes and took a trip down memory lane.

Faye and Jet must be overly anxious and ecstatic to see him again. His life has been upside down, and he was sure ready as hell to die. That's what he had it mind, anyways. Life on the Bebop grew grim and depressing once Ed and Ein fled, and Spike felt empty. 

He had nothing left; nothing in life satisfied him anymore. Not after Julia died in his arms, not after killing Vicious. 

Spike remembered. It was all a dream. He was dreaming, of course. With life this mundane, it couldn't be real. He wasn't alive. Once he wakes, he'll be where he wanted to be. Thing is: where would that be?

"Spike."

Spike jolted awake. He picked his head up, and his brown eyes met the same strange crystal blue ones with the pink hue. Accompanying those generous eyes was a small smile. It wasn't warm or very much, but it sure as hell nice. In his arms, Atlas held dark blue clothing. It was thick and seemed heavy.

"Seemed like you dozed off. Since I don't have much clothing, you can have this robe I got awhile ago." 

Spike glanced at the robe. It looked incredibly warm.

"Mm, thanks."

"Here."

Atlas wrapped the robe around Spike for him and tied the string around his waist so it wouldn't fly open to show his goods. As he did so, Spike watched him with parted lips and raised brows. Atlas swung Spike's arm over his shoulder and they proceeded into the living area.

The robe, indeed, was incredibly warm. 

Spike never tore his gaze from Atlas. 

He started to question whether or not he had found his answer.

* * *

Another week was gone, and it was almost time for Spike to go. 

Atlas, much to his surprise, wished he didn't have to go. The two men grew oddly close to one another, despite the constant bickering between them. He hoped that Spike enjoyed his stay, and that he at least felt the same way.

On the living room's floor, both men sat together. Spike sat with his legs to the side behind Atlas, and Atlas sitting crossed-legged. He turned his wrench on the small machine in front of him, immersed in his working.

Both were unaware of the fact that they were very close, one being too busy getting the screw in right, the other busy watching the other struggled with the screw. Spike, unknowingly, rested his chin on Atlas' shoulder. 

Atlas flinched, and his cheeks turned pink at the sudden contact. Something was off, this didn't feel right.

But for some reason, it did.

Shaking his head, he ignored Spike and continued working with the same pink blush on his face.

Spike eyed him attentively in deep thought. Something clicked in his mind. 

The syndicate.

They watched him supposedly die. Right in front of them. What is to happen when they find out that his body was missing? What if they find Atlas after he's gone, and do whatever they could possibly think of to him? Spike's mind spun as he thought of all this.

He didn't know what Atlas could do in self-defense. He didn't know what would happen if he was gone, and the syndicate got to him. It bothered him. A lot.

As Spike opened his mouth to say something, something rung, breaking Atlas out of his work. He looked over to another machine, larger than the one in between his legs. It had a blinking blue light as it rang like a bell. Jaw to the floor, Atlas dropped the wrench. 

"What is it?" Spike asked suspiciously. He noticed how pale Atlas grew and his body started to tremble.

"Oi, Atlas!"

"Shit..." The word slipped from his tongue in fear as he stared at his communication device. He crawled at a fast speed towards it, stared at it some more. then clicked a body. A holographic screen appeared, revealing a woman older than the two men in the room. She had black shades over her eyes with wavy brown hair and caramel skin. She wore a scowl on her face as she glowered at Atlas.

"Atlas Homer!" she growled, causing the young man to jump.

"V-Vanessa!" Atlas greeted, teeth clanking against each other. "W-What's-a-happening, sweet thing?"

Vanessa rolled her eyes and scowled more at him, giving him more anxiety. 

"Don't sweet talk me this time. You know why I'm here --- Actually, I'm here for two things!"

Fuck.

"One: where the hell is the money you owe? And two: there's trouble with the syndicate.

Spike looked at Atlas with more suspicion.

As if someone flipped a switch, the nervousness and anxiety from Atlas was gone. He furrowed his brows in question.

"Red Dragon Crime Syndicate?"

Vanessa nodded.

"Apparently, they killed a guy and they found his body gone a couple of weeks ago. Just keep a look out for the guy; the name's Spike Spiegel."

Both men froze as time seemed to stop. Vanessa's angry voice broke the sudden silence.

"Now, about the fucking money!" 

Atlas flinched and immediately started to panic.

"Aw, c'mon Vanessa! I still need more time---!"

"Enough time was  _given!"_

"May I offer a gravity machine that can, well, control gravity in your space?" 

"No!" Vanessa roared. "You know what happens when you don't  _pay up,_ don't you, Homer?" Vanessa threatened, venom drench in her tone. Chills went down Atlas' back as he gulped.

"Y-Yeah," he replied. "Of course. Yeah."

"Good," Vanessa nodded. "We're coming in three days to retrieve what you have. And oh. About Spiegel---" The venom returned in her voice. "Do  _not_ help him or do  _anything."_

"O-Of course, darling---"

"Good! See you in three days."

The holographic screen disappeared and Atlas gave our a desperate cry.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

" ** _Atlas."_**

Atlas let out a yell as he turned around, facing a very pissed out Spike. Man, did he looked  _angry._

"What's this all about? Start talking."

Gulping, Atlas started to chuckle nervously as sweat dripped down his body. 

"Haha, well. Um-- The thing is, I'm part of the Blue Knight Antihero Syndicate..."

No.  _No._

Atlas nervously pointed two fingers at Spike, who's eyes grew big.

"And apparently, you were part of the Red Dragon Crime Syndicate."

"...No way..."

"And if they find out that I'm nursing you... Dude, we're  _screwed."_

 _"_ More than screwed, Atlas! We're fucked!"

Atlas gripped his hair and yelled anxiously. 

"Fuck man! Why didn't you tell me sooner!?"

"Me!? Why didn't you tell me!? And what's up about the money?"

"...I... took a bunch of stuff from somewhere where I shouldn't have..."

"Atlas...How much do you owe...?"

Atlas grew silent as he slowly counted his fingers nervously.

"₩30M..."

"THIRTY-MILLION WOOLONGS?"

"I-I KNOW!"

"WHAT DID YOU STEAL?"

"...ILLEGAL METAL? FUCK MAN, I DON'T KNOW."

Both males started to panic.

"Dude, I can't stay!" Atlas exclaimed, gripping Spike's wide shoulders. "They're going to kill me once they find out everything!" 

Spike looked in Atlas' terrified eyes, thinking up a possible solution that could save the both of them.

Almost giving up hope, a solution eventually popped up.

"Atlas." Spike held his shoulders. "Listen to me."

Atlas nodded and stared into his eyes. Spike continued.

"I'm supposed to leave tomorrow, but we must leave today."

" _We?"_

"Yes. Atlas, you're coming with me."

Atlas' eyes widened as he stared at the tall man in disbelief.

"Spike--"

"Listen, I don't wanna have to admit this but... I was worried this may happen. Well, that my syndicate would find you when I'm gone. We're both in danger; so let's go. Together."

A grin slowly grew on Atlas' cheeks. 

"Sounds like a plan, Spiegel."

* * *

Atlas looked back to his now old apartment. He was leaving everything behind: his home, mundane life,  _planet._ Half of him felt remorse; half felt ecstatic.

"You ready?"

Broken out of his gaze, his attention turned towards Spike, waiting for him to help him.

" 'Course."

Atlas wrapped his arm around Spike as he wrapped his around his shoulder. On the blonde's shoulders was a large backpack, and in his free hand was a suitcase. Spike wore his pants, which were generously washed by Atlas, and a jacket that belonged to Atlas. 

The two men trudged to the docks, where the Bebop waited for them. 


	5. session five, you're pretty complex cowboy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike brings Atlas to the Bebop, and he settles in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spike gets turned on.

Two men approached the docks, where a huge spaceship awaited for them. Atlas marveled at the size of it.

"Whoa..."

Spike chuckled at Atlas' fascination as the loading ramp came in contact with the dock, and two familiar comrades only to him emerged from the old ship. Upon seeing the two men, they yelled and made a beeline towards them. The sudden action made Atlas jump. 

"Spike, did you tell 'em anything about me staying?"

"Uh.."

"Spike!"

The first person that caught Atlas' was the man, who was very, very large in size. One of his muscular arms were replaced with a robotic one, and his legs were either replaced also or in armor. On his body, he wore some sort of overalls or work suit. Man, he was  _huge._

His attention turned towards the other person: a woman. She was pretty  ~~hot~~ , and showed a lot of skin.  ~~Atlas wasn't complaining, though.~~ She wore a skimpy yellow undershirt, yellow shorts, white boots and nude stockings. On her arms, she wore a red jacket that loosely hung around her. If you were going to wear a jacket, wear the damn thing. 

Atlas seemed to be staring at the attractive woman only, Spike nudged him in his side. 

When the two strangers approached, they yelled Spike's name repeatedly and fretted over him.

"Spike! You're .... You're really here!" the woman exclaimed happily, tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Spike only nodded and looked up at the taller male, who stared in disbelief. 

"Spike..."

"Hope you didn't miss me too much, Jet."

The two shared a fist bump. The woman noticed Atlas, who had been holding Spike the whole time. 

"My, my, Spike. Who's your hot friend?"

Atlas blushed and grin awkwardly. Rolling his eyes, Spike patted him on the chest imma friendly manner.

"My savior." Spike eyed Atlas and jerked his head towards his comrades, indicating that he should introduce himself.

"Oh! I'm Atlas. Atlas Homer. I saved Spike not too long ago and nursed him," Atlas greeted, nodding to the both of them. The large man took Spike away from him, never tearing his hard look away from the blond.

"I hope he wasn't much trouble," he said. Atlas rolled his eyes, grateful that they couldn't see behind his goggles. They had no idea. 

"He wasn't so bad," he lied, much to Spike's amusement. 

"Atlas, this is Jet and Faye," Spike introduced, keeping a steady balance on the older man, Jet. Faye winked and gave a flirtatious wave, causing Atlas to blush some more. Spike's tone turned low and more serious as he turned towards the brown ship. "Listen, we all have to go. Now."

Faye and Jet gave him a questionable look.

"What do you mean  _all?"_

"I'll explain on the ship. Right now, Atlas has to come with us."

"Whoa, whoa there, cowboy," Jet intervened, glaring at Atlas. "We don't know nothing of this guy. We can't just---"

" _I_ know him," Spike interrupted. "We didn't know Faye; she was a wanted bounty head."

Faye gulped.

"We didn't know Ed. I spent two weeks in this man's home, and he saw me naked a few times. So, I say we trust him." 

Bothered by the over given fact, Jet shook his head.

"Alright, fine! Just get on."

Atlas followed suit behind the three space cowboys, not giving Mars another look.

* * *

Faye eyed Atlas suspiciously while her arms crossed.

"You don't have much stuff to move in."

"Trust me, I have everything I need in this bag and case," Atlas reassured with a smile, to which Faye returned. Though, it wasn't kind. It was more flirtatious.

Jet turned to the two, already fed up with Faye's attempt to get in his pants.

"C'mon, let's go find a place so you can settle in."

Atlas followed behind Jet like a dog in silence, slightly intimidated by him. To distract himself, his eyes took in his surroundings.

"So, Atlas, was it?"

Jet's question broke him out of his gaze. 

"Uh, yes. Jet, was it?"

"That's right. What do you do?" Jet questioned. Atlas immediately grinned, happy to talk about the work he does.

"Well, for starters: I love building and fixing things," he replied proudly. Jet gave an amused smirk and kept walking forward. 

"You're a handy man?"

"And an inventor. It's my passion, really. I excel in it, I love it."

"Sounds like you'll fit in just fine," Jet mused, stopping in his steps. Atlas followed and stopped. He looked up to what Jet was gestured to with his robotic arm and marveled. It was an observatory, where the top showed the outside. 

"We never used the observatory," Jet explained. "At least I can say now that we finally have a use for it."

"Wow! Thank you, Jet!" Atlas thanked, rushing inside. "It's great!" He searched for a light switch and flicked it on, revealing all the empty space in the room, waiting for him to fill it with his tools and machines. And of course, his bed. Atlas dropped his case and bag on the floor and sighed in content. 

Jet shook his head with an amused smirk and turned to walk away. 

"Make ya self at home, the Bebop is going to launch now."

Launch. The word sparked in Atlas as he turned around, pulling his goggles up to his head, revealing wide eyes.

"Launch!?  _In space!?"_

* * *

Atlas roamed the Bebop in search of a certain man.

"Spike? Spike?" He called his name, despite receiving silence in return. He searched some more and bumped into something, or someone. He looked to see purple hair and pretty purple eyes. "Oh, sorry Faye."

Faye smiled and held up a hand. "No need to apologize. Whatcha looking for?"

Atlas lifted his goggles above his head to reveal his blue eyes, causing Faye to marvel at them in surprise. She had never seen such pretty eyes on a man before, it was strange. Atlas offered her a smile as he spoke.

"I'm just looking for Spike. Any idea where he might be?"

Faye smirked and leaned against the cold, metallic wall. 

"Check the workshop; he's usually there on his down time," she replied, watching as Atlas' changed from kind to shock.

"What!? He's still not recovered 100% yet! God, he really is dense. Thanks, Faye," he thanked, going off to find Spike and give him a piece of his mind. 

However, Faye stopped him.

"So, you're on the run too, hm?"

Atlas turned. 

"So, he told you."

Faye nodded, her smirk never leaving.

"Welcome to the club, hottie~"

* * *

"SPIKE SPIEGEL."

Spike flinched, nearly dropping the wrench on his foot. He turned towards the doorway to see an angry Atlas Homer.

"What are you doing, dense!?" he yelled, making his way towards him. "You can't be up like this! You need to rest!"

Spike scoffed and dismissed the man.

"Pssh, says the fake doctor."

Pissed off even more, Atlas snatched the wrench from his large hand. Spike was shocked at the sudden anger emitting from the younger male. Atlas' face was pink, and he was the polar opposite of content.

"I may not be a doctor, but I know a thing or two about fucking health." Atlas looked him up and down. "How are you even  _standing?"_

Spike shrugged with a pout as he leaned over the work table. 

"I'm leaning, genius."

"Spike, not the time."

Atlas gestured Spike over to him, to which he begrudgingly gave into. In a moment, they stood in Spike's quarters, which wasn't too big. It only consisted of a large bed and few cardboard boxes of clothing.

As Atlas laid him down, something came to mind. Spike was bound to get an infection soon, and he didn't know if he would be ready for something like that. Yes, he had brought the herbs with him and other medicine just for Spike. But he doubt he would be able to cure his infection when it came. He sighed, and sat at the edge of his bed.

Spike watched him curiously.

"What's the matter with you?"

"You. I'm worried."

Spike rose an inquisitive brow, not understanding what he was saying. Atlas sighed again and continued.

"You can get an infection from your wounds, Spike. Honestly, I don't know if I can save you from that when it comes."

Suddenly, Spike felt a bit bad as he watched the man slouch over on his bed with a bothered expression. He never saw Atlas so down and upset, and it bothered him. He stared, trying to come up with some reassuring words for the younger man beside him. He carefully propped himself on his elbow, and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"Hey, look at me." 

Atlas closed his eyes with a pained look before looking at Spike. Spike, too, had a solemn expression on his features.

"If you can cure me from sudden death, I'm pretty sure you can cure my infection when it comes. There's nothing to worry about."

Atlas rose his brows a bit as he looked down at Spike. Then he realized: he was right. Why was Atlas suddenly bothered? Maybe he had grown to actually care for Spike Spiegel, strangely. In truth, he was only concerned for his wellbeing. If he died, he'd be in deep shit and have a bullet placed in his head by Jet. Or worse: Faye. Two weeks spent with Spike really took a toll on him, but he realized that he didn't mind. It was actually .... nice.

Both men felt fond of each other, without actually realzing it over the time span of being together. Spike had learned to respect Atlas, and Atlas learned the same. The two bickered (mostly over Spike's stubbornness), but they were only men. Each hoped that a respectful friendship could blossom, and that they could count on each other for anything soon. Since Atlas did practically save his life, and Spike, in a sense, did the same favor for him.

Atlas softly smiled and nodded, his crystal blue eyes soft. Spike didn't understand it; Atlas had many, many emotions. And he changed between them a lot. His expressions and sudden emotion changes seemed to fascinate Spike; he was interesting. 

He didn't like the idea that he was sort of turned on by the soft smirk on his face.

Atlas shrugged his hand off of his shoulder and stood. 

"You're right. I mean, I'm pretty great. One thing, Spike, that you should know about me is, I'm very prideful," Atlas said, giving Spike the same smirk. "I won't let you die on me, Spike. Nah, that's not gonna happen."

Atlas left Spike to himself, closing the door behind him. Spike stared at the door before sighing loudly and laying back down with his forearm over his eyes. His face felt hot, and his heart thumped against his ribcage in an odd pattern. He didn't understand it; he didn't understand any of it.

Atlas Homer was a man. He was a complex man, like Spike himself.


	6. session 6, you got an infection, cowboy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlas tries to find a way to help out Spike, and calls up an old friend. A pretty short chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spike gets an infection.

The day came. The day Atlas dreaded. 

Spike's infection.

Atlas was currently cornered with a gun in between his eyes. He was scared shitless, and had his hands up in surrender.

"What the hell are you going to do with Spike!?" Jet roared angrily, quite upset. Atlas shook, grinning nervously.

"Aw, c'mon, Jet. Don't be like that---"

"This isn't a  _game."_

Atlas gulped.

"Okay, okay! Look, I don't have the main thing that Spike needs, but I know a guy!" Atlas exclaimed, hoping that would at least calm down the angry man. For his luck, it did. Jet lowered his gun, but glared even harder.

"You  _know a guy?"_ He spat. "That doesn't make this situation better at all."

Atlas' eyes flickered over to Faye and then flickered back to Jet. He gulped once more and gained more confidence.

"Listen, I know a guy in Ganymede who's a legit doctor. He taught me everything I knew to save Spike in the first place. I say we fly to Ganymede and he'll cure him. Free of charge."

Jet nodded like a very long stare.

* * *

"What d'you mean you're not on Ganymede anymore!?"

Atlas gripped his large communication device and stared, bewildered, at the man on screen. It was a man around his age with mocha skin and long, black hair tied into a bun. He wore a white doctor coat and a black shirt with black pants. He stared back at Atlas with indifference and shrugged.

"I meant what I said: I left," he replied, taking a sip from his drink. 

Atlas threw his head back and groaned loudly.

"Then where are you?" 

"I'm taking a trip to the next solar system." 

"What!?"

The doctor shrugged again.

"I work too much, man. You know that. I need a little downtime."

Atlas shook the machine desperately. He couldn't believe it. He was going to die.

"Luther, please! My friend is going to die of infection if I don't help him! And I don't have penicillins or whatever you need!" he cried. Luther hummed.

"Incision?"

Atlas nodded.

"How bad are they?" Luther sighed, taking a sip. 

"...I had to stitch up an organ." 

"Jesus, dude. That's deep!" Luther exclaimed as he rubbed his stubbly chin in thought to help out his friend.

"Listen, I think I can still be able to help. You're going to have to go to my office back at Ganymede," he said, still rubbing his chin in thought. Atlas perked up in interest. "I left everything there: my medicines, herbs, and stitches."

Atlas hugged the device and smooched it happily.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Luther! You really are my best friend!" 

Luther rose a brow at Atlas with a frown. His finger tapped on his glass as he sat with his legs crossed over, unamused.

"You know you still owe me, right?" 

Deliriously, Atlas jumped up and yelled. He could hear the facepalming of Jet and Faye behind him. 

"What!?" 

"Dude, don't forget. I saved your life  _and_ lend you all this cash. I haven't said anything because I'm your friend." 

Atlas pouted and gave Luther a puppy gaze, hoping it'll change his mind. It didn't. However, Luther proposed an idea.

"Hmm, but there can be an alternative," he proposed. "I left my cat back in the office by mistake, and who knows how long I could be gone."

"Are you basically asking me to babysit Linus?" Atlas asked in bordem. "If that's the case, I'll happily do it if it means saving my friend." 

Luther smiled.

"And to rid you of your payments."

Atlas rolled his eyes and smiled back at his friend. 

"Thanks so much, Luther. I don't know how I can ever repay y--"

"--Don't finish that statement, just don't." 

Atlas laughed and waved goodbye before the screen disappeared. Faye groaned.

"How many people do you have to repay?"


	7. session 7, you're going to be okay cowboy !

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlas and the Bebop crew travel to Ganymede to get supplies to save Spike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby?

Atlas couldn't wait until the ramp lowered on the docks. He jumped over the edge and successfully landed on his feet. He breathed in the cool air of Ganymede and took in the beauitful scenery. Jet's deep voice broke him out of his admiration as he warned him.

"Be back soon," he told him. "And get  _everything_ you need to save Spike."

Atlas took off in good-paced walk towards Luther's home, which he had almost forgot. It has been a while since he visited him on the planet, and his ship was taken from him. Atlas nearly got run over by a fast vehicle, got offered numerous of snacks and foods, and was even offered to invest cash on his journey.

Ganymede was better than Mars, in theory. 

He couldn't let anything distract him; Spike's life was on the line. He walked on with determination and the stubborn man on his mind.

Though, he got distracted again. 

Atlas stopped in his tracks, a few feet away from a large gathering. He approached the people, stood on his toes, and noticed an old man, still in his prime, on a podium. He seemed to be giving a speech. Or better yet: a protest.

Careful, Atlas squeezed through the crowd to get a better look at what was going on. In a matter of seconds, he was in the front and looked up at the older, angrier man.

"The government is evil!" he screamed, the crowd loudly screaming back in agreement. "They are plotting to take over Ganymede! The police force is doing illegal activities behind our backs! Evil!  _Evil!_ Burn down the ISSP!  _Burn down the ISSP!"_

Atlas was merely impressed at his energy and the step the community is taking to fight back against the system. This intrigued him, and he wanted to learn more. He turned to a woman, much older than he was, and tapped her shoulder. 

"Excuse me," he asked politely. "Mind explaining what this is all about?"

The woman scrunched up her face in an unexplainable emotion, with balled up fists on her hips. 

"This damn police force is ruining Ganymede and the galaxy!" she said. "The ISSP and the galactic government are up to no good and must be stopped!"

"Prosecuted!"

"Executed!"

"I heard they're going to kill the economy!"

By all the energy draining the poor male, Atlas weaved out of the crowd and continued his journey towards Luther's. Time passed, and he arrived.

* * *

_Heavy footsteps stomped on the cold, hard ground as he ran in the freezing temperatures of the rain. Blood trickled down the scars on his back, and his dark, brown hair was drenched and cold with rain and blood, most likely not even his own. In his arms, he carried shiny metal, tools, and other resourceful goods he had stole for the syndicate._

_The young Atlas could feel the last bit of energy draining from his torn body. He ducked in a dark alleyway from the heat and collasped, finally giving out. He laid for what felt like hours until footsteps approached him, and suddenly the rain stopped falling._

_"My, my," a voice said. It welcomed confidence and warmth. "What the Hell did tou get yourself into?"_

_Exhausted, blue eyes slowly looked up to see light hazel ones that contrasted from the darkness around them. The kind eyes belonged to a man that held an umbrella that covered the both of them. He also had a cat protectively underneath his arm._

_In moments, Atlas laid on a bed in the man's home. The cat from before shook itself dry before roaming mindlessly. The man approached him in a white coat and sat down on a chair in front of him. Aware, Atlas sat up._

_"Don't be alarmed," said the man with a chuckle. "I'm a doctor. You're lucky Linus got out in the rain and found you. You would've been dead!"_

_Raising a brow, Atlas jerked his head over to the cat._

_"You mean the cat?"_

_Nodding, the man gathered materials to heal Atlas._

_"Yes, that's my cat, Linus. My name is Luther," he said. "Luther Dupain."_

_Atlas let Luther rub alcohol on his wounds and bandage them. Afterwards, he received a warm blanket and cuddled himself, instantly feeling warm. Luther sat with Atlas with a cup of scotch in his hand._

_"So, stranger. Mind giving me some info about yourself?" he asked, playfully. "Would like to know a few things about my patient."_

_"Uh, my name is Atlas Homer. I'm .... nineteen. I'm not from here," Atlas explained, clutching the blanket closer to his body and looking down distantly. "I'm from Earth. Well ---- born on Earth. I live on Mars now. I only came to Ganymede to retrieve things for work."_

_"I suppose retrieving illegal matter?" Luther inquired, picking at the shiny metal. Atlas nearly panicked._

_"H-Hey! Don't touch that!"_

_"Relax, I have no interest." Luther boredly flicked the metals. "Pretty good. Valuable. I'm guessing you work for some shady people, fella."_

_Atlas pouted and looked off to the side. His cheeks puffed out as he did so, and he looked like a stubborn child. It was awfully cute._

_"Whatever. I'm with the Blue Syndicate, it's not shady at all." After replying, something felt odd about his choice of words. He heard Luther chuckle and blushed in embarrassment._

_"Ah? The Blue Knight Antihero Syndicate?" Luther mused. "Cute. It's probably not smart to share that with me, kid."_

_"I'm not a kid, I'm an adult. I'm nineteen."_

_Luther smiled and leaned over closely to Atlas, who watched him carefully. He smiled some more._

_"Wanna take a guess at how old I am?"_

_"Why the hell would I care?"_

_"C'mon. Guess."_

_"....30?"_

_Luther laughed out loud and wiped a tear from his eye._

_"Ha! Good one! I'm 21."_

_Atlas rolled his eyes and pouted again, watching Luther lean closer._

_"So, pretty boy. Tell me more about this syndicate and what you do."_

Atlas' fingers grazed the bed in Luther's home, reminiscing the day they first met. Four years. It's been four years since they've been friends. One of the best friendships Atlas ever had.

Shaking his head, remembering the reason why he's here, he scrounged for supplies for Spike, eager to get back on the Bebop. As he searched, something purred and grazed on his leg. Atlas shivered and peered down to see Linus. In a rush, he dismissed the feline and searched more recklessly, accidentally knocking something over on the shelf. It's green substance spilled on Linus.

"Ugh, sorry." Atlas grabbed his satchel and started to dump things into it. Once it was full, Atlas looked around some more to take any more things that he ran out of himself: stitches, medicines, more herbs. In his search, he stumbled upon a brown box. Curious, he ripped the lid open to reveal wads of cash stacked up. 

He knew it would be dirty of him to take his best friend's money. He was already in debt to him.

Then again, he was going to be taking care of Linus. It wouldn't hurt, right?

Atlas dumped half of the box's remains in his satchel, scooped up Linus, and high-tailed it out of there.

* * *

Atlas leaped back onto the ship, where he called for Faye and Jet. As if on cue, both came rushing in.

"Did you get the stuff?" Faye questioned. Atlas nodded with a grin.

"Yes! How is He? Spike?"

"He's ... doing fine. He woke up from his fever finally. He isn't looking too well, Atlas."

Atlas frowned. "I know, I know. I'm going to save him."

Atlas made his way towards Spike's quarters, closed the door with his foot, and got to work.

* * *

"See? I told you you could do it."

"Don't bluff, dude." 

Spike was fine. The two men found themselves in a game of cards on Spike's bed. 

"So, tell me more about this doctor."

"Gladly." Atlas grinned as he put down a card, watching Spike's brows raise up and immediately searching for a better card. "He's my best friend of four years. After healing my wounds one night, we just hit it off. I was immature at the time, so I kinda told him anything that came to mind."

Spike looked at him calmly. "I see."

"I took his money."

"Aren't you in debt to him already?"

"I'm taking care of his damn cat; that's my new debt. We're practically brothers, he won't mind."

Spike hummed as he placed down another card from his own deck. "How much?"

Itching his chin, Atlas hummed to himself in thought. "Not much. I took half of what was there. Give or take, 20,000₩?" 

Spike's brow rose again as he looked at him. "That's a lot."

"Yeah, isn't it? I wonder what he was doing with all that cash. In thanks for letting me live with you guys, I'm putting the money for the Bebop for food and other materials we need."

"Oh, how generous."

It wasn't hard to find the sarcasm in Spike's tone. Atlas ignored it with a shrug.

"It's no big deal," he replied. "Soon, you'll be back killing people for money."

"Hey! That's not what bounty hunters do!"

Atlas rose a brow. "Oh really now?"

Spike kissed his teeth and slammed a card down in the pile, annoyed.

"Ah, whatever! Where is that damn cat anyways?"

Atlas rose his head up to look at Spike. He had now realized that Linus has been nowhere in sight even since he started nursing Spike again. This worried him. 

"Huh. Good point."

Suddenly, there was a scream followed by Atlas' name. Both men jumped, dropping their cards. Atlas ran out of Spike's room and down to the living room, where Faye stood with her back facing him.

"F-Faye!? What is it!?"

Faye turned, and in her arms was a baby.


	8. Session 8, They're Going to be a Handful.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bebop crew is going start working again, now with Atlas on the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty short chapter from long hiatus. Sorry!

"Atlas."

Atlas gulped as the infant was shoved into his arms angrily by Faye, who frowned. She crossed her arms as she glowered at him with Jet and Spike mimicking her actions behind her.

"Aw, don't be like that guys!" Atlas started to sweat. "How was I suppose to know Linus could shape-shift!?"

"You've been around him longer than we have," Jet growled. "How the hell did you not know?"

Shrugging innocently, Atlas pouted. The baby, which was Linus the Cat, squirmed in his arms. He yawned and opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Atlas' scared, blue eyes. Linus blinked before clapping with laughter. Atlas sighed out of relief.

With a changed attitude, Faye cooed at Linus. "He is cute, though! Aw, so precious!" 

Jet groaned and sighed, rubbing his face with his large hand. 

"Atlas," he started. "We can barely take care of ourselves. How the hell are we going to take care of a baby?" 

"I--" Atlas stopped himself, pondering. After a bit, he looked back up. "Actually, I have nothing. I don't know." 

Spike scratched his head as he stared at Linus, who Faye was messing with. 

"Well, I guess we need to start working."

Everyone looked at him in shock, and then at each other. Even Linus stopped babbling, and looked just as confused.

"Ah, Spike. Would you be ready to do so?" Jet asked cautiously. "You're still pretty beat up, and you just overcame death for the second time."

Spike lifted his shoulders. "Its fine. I'm sure I can handle a bounty head or two. If we need to feed and care for a baby, why not just work? It won't just be me, either. There's Faye."

"And Atlas!"

Atlas jumped and pointed to himself.

"M-Me!?"

Jet nodded. "Well, you're apart of the Bebop now. You gotta do  _something."_

"Well, I thought I was going to be your  _mechanic."_

Spike placed a firm hand on Atlas' shoulder and gave a reassuring smile. "Don't sweat it. I'll teach you how to fight, hold a gun, and everything."

Frowning, Atlas narrowed his eyes as he withdrew his hand from his shoulder. His cheeks were a bit flushed by the offer.

"FYI, I  _do_ know how to fight and hold a gun," he spat like a child, crossing his arms. "And I don't have my ship." 

This perked up everyone's interest.

"You have a ship?" Faye asked. "Why didn't you mount it when you moved in?"

"Because, like I said, I don't have it," Atlas repeated. "It was stolen by some crook. Which is why I haven't been able to fly to Ganymede to visit Luther that often."

Jet crossed his arms and hummed to himself in thought.

"Then, we'll just have to find it. We'll be lucky as hell if they're bounty heads."

Atlas sighed and slouched back, Linus had slipped off his goggles and was now gnawing at them.

"Doubt it."

"Well, you're good with machines and junk," Faye commented. "Don't tell me you can't track your ship." 

After a few moments of silence, Atlas jumped up in his seat, startling everyone. His eyes were wide, and his face was seemingly brighter.

"Actually... I can." How silly of him, he could've tracked the Romulus ll ages ago!

"Well," said Spike. "What are we waiting for?"

Jet frowned as he shook his head disapprovingly much to Spike's distaste. Spike scowled at his friend much like a child.

"No can do, Spike," said Jet. "Way too risky." 

"Yeah, man. You can't just  _jump_  into action again after surgery and whatnot---"

"I've been in recovery for weeks." Spike frowned and stood to walk away from the group. "I don't need some rookie telling me what I can and can not do, sorry."

Atlas' eyes widened as his brows furrowed together, part confused, shocked, and pissed off by the older man's sudden remark. Faye looked from between them before clamping a hand over Atlas' ready one, who was beginning to throw a snappy statement back. 

When Spike was finally gone, Atlas pried Faye's hand from his mouth and frowned.

"Is he always like this?" Faye and Jet shrugged as the baby Linus giggled in the blond's arms. Atlas sighed and gently rocked the child, lost in his thoughts. "I suppose I should get to work on tracking my ship if we ever want to find it." 

Atlas and Linus disappeared from the living room, leaving Faye and Jet together. Faye turned to Jet as he groaned.

"Both Spike and Atlas are gonna be quite a handful."

"Hey, at least we finally have a good-looking guy on the ship."


End file.
